The wizard's hands
by Facundo Romano
Summary: A young wizard starts his journey, aged eleven. But he doesn't receive the help of a wand, he has another saviour and helper, much more attached to his body.


**CHAPTER 1- No ordinary wizard**

_"He's very particular, very unique indeed."_

Just a few words surrounded me, making me feel happy and terrified at the same time. Why was I unique? Was it just because not one of the wands inside this small shop in Diagon Alley would take me for its master?

Mr Ollivander's eyes were fixed upon me, screwing me to the ground and judging me, not in a mean way, but in the way someone who tries to help you judges you.

_"What can we do? Should we go elsewhere?"_ said my mother, who kept throwing threatening gazes at the wands, now scattered all over the countertop.

I knew that deep inside her she feared me being a squib, but she wouldn't tell me. She was terrified at the prospect. Her only son, a powerless pure-blood? She would always defend me from our accusing neighbours in Hogsmeade, who would think me worthless whenever my mother told them I had yet to show any signs of magical ability. But now I knew that her faith was hanging by a thread, and that the menacing scissors of hopelessness were nearing.

I pulled from her cloak, already giving up, and ready to leave the fight and go home. We squibs at least were able to enjoy the world of magic from a spectator's perspective, but Muggles had it even worse… they were missing on the wonders and endless possibilities of magic, and they would never get to see them.

_"We won't go quite yet, Stephan, I'm sure Mr. Ollivander will do his best to help us." _

Confirmed. My mother had already lost hope, for she was recurring to that always-fruitless and always-rude force of oral blackmailing pure-bloods would use against half-bloods or muggle-borns. Mr. Ollivander was a half-blood himself, his grandfather was a pure-blood, but then again, pure-bloods were something you would usually see in the past, now we are really scarce. I even heard his grandfather had the honour of selling a wand to Harry Potter.

_"I don't think there's anything I can do. As you madam witnessed, I tried every single wand fit for his age and height."_ He paused for a second, seemingly immersed in thoughts, and the continued. _"But… I think there is something we might attempt. But we wand-makers haven't seen such a case in years, if not centuries."_

My mother was expectant, and so was I. Mr. Ollivander hurried to the back of his shop, bringing back with him a big, dusty and apparently heavy crystal sphere with him. Why wasn't he levitating it all the way here, instead of forcing his already weakening arms? Maybe as a wand-maker he was already tired of grasping and being in contact with those magical sticks. He placed the crystal sphere on the countertop, after my impatient mother had thrown the scattered wands away by means of a spell.

_"Well. Where to start? This, dear Stephan, is the last attempt you have to show that you do have magic within you. If this doesn't work, I'm afraid you are a…"_ He dared not pronounce the word; he knew my mother was very near to a tantrum or a wizard duel. He decided to change the direction of his speech. _"I'm… afraid, well, that you are one."_

He grasped my hanging hands and cupped them.

_"Aim for the crystal sphere. Think with all your strength, focus. Try to do your best and think about that very sphere levitating."_

I closed my eyes and started thinking. I was closing my eyes so hard and thinking so mighty that both my brain and my eyelids were aching like never before. I wasn't looking, I was only picturing the sphere inside my head, flying around the room, throwing boxes and boxes of wands away from their shelves. Infinity passed, at least for me, but I knew that only a few seconds had flown.

My mother started shrieking, crying, Mr. Ollivander started gasping for breath, not believing his eyes. I opened mine and looking around the small room I knew that it had worked. Wherever I looked wands were carelessly placed all over the floor, having unmistakeably fallen. What was happening? Where was the crystal sphere? As soon as I stopped focusing on it I heard a loud thud and the sound of shattered glass. Another countertop, to our left, had been broken by the falling sphere.

_"This is unique!" mumbled Mr. Ollivander. "Never seen in my life! No… no! No ordinary wizard!"_

**_TO BE CONTINUED_**


End file.
